Hunter
by The.Frost
Summary: Silas is the blood-thirsty head of a mercenary company. Most would call him efficient, brutal, or reliable. Usually all three. Fear strikes it's way into all hearts. There is a fine line between fear, and Terror.
1. Persons List

**Residents of the Park**

_**Town Council**_

John Parker - Marshall  
Vicky Lane - Boatmaster  
William Gill - Business Rep.  
Garret Orville - Head Hunter  
Silas - Merc Leader

_**Town Services**_

_Peacekeepers_  
John Parker - Marshall  
_Employees  
_ Milly Harris - Second  
Trent Shane - Checkoint Official  
Chris Volmer - Officer  
Tyler Volmer  
Jenny Hickson  
Kristen Taylor  
Zachary Williams

_Ferrymen_  
Vicky Lane - Boatmaster  
_Employees  
_ Charon Sticks - Ferryman  
Nick Toll - Ferryman

_Hunters_  
Garret Orville - Huntsman  
_Employees_  
Jazz - Huntsman  
Hillary Orville - Fisherman  
Richard Locke - Fisherman  
Aaron Shores - Huntsman

_**Businesses  
**_

William Gill - Barkeep  
_Business Name_  
Hole in the Wall  
_Employees_  
James Thompson

Mary Williams - Shopkeeper  
Gary Carter - Shopkeeper  
_Business Name  
_Coastside General Store

Tanner - Repairman  
_Business Name_  
Park Arms and Armor  
_Employees  
_ Jackson Riley - Gun Specialist  
Gary Sawhorse - Melee Specialist  
Jamie Lindt - Armor Specialist  
Frank Soles - Tailor

James Franks - Cook  
_Business Name  
_The Grill  
_Employees_  
Maude Franks - Cook  
Andy Franks - Waiter

Silas - Specialist  
_Company Name  
_ *There is no official name for Silas' band of mercenaries*  
_Members_  
Kylar Whitlock - Contractor/Second  
Grimm Abignale  
Jacob Flint  
Samantha Collier

...

An explanation will be at the end of Chapter 1. This Persons list will be updated as new characters come into the story, or as characters die. By the way...I **highly **recommend that you Google **Thomas Point Park**. Seriously. You'll have a much clearer image of things.


	2. The Silent Blade

_Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout 3 or any of it's irradiated and fatal content._

...

Picture, if you will, the Planet. Post-Apocalyptic, in all of it's anarchistic glory. You know how it happened. You know _why _it happened. None of that matters, as the past is the past, and no reasonable candidate for punishment responsible for the current state of affairs on this ball of rock is alive. Or, at least, within our reach. Now, let's focus ourselves a bit more precise area. Picture North America, no, the U.S.A. Freedom. Baseball. Happiness. Capitalism. And then, with the pushing of a few buttons, Terror. Chaos. Mutants. Rapists. Theives. The 'Greatest Country on Earth' destroyed itself from the inside out. Enough time spent dwelling on the past.

You now see before you the Capital Wasteland. Megaton. Rivet City. Paradise Falls. Three major cities. And of course, you have the Brotherhood of Steel, and their opposite, the Enclave. But, more specifically, Downtown D.C, overrun by the Super Mutant menace. Many of the inhabitants of the Capital Wasteland have never traveled East of the Downtown area. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it is unfortunate. The settlements to the East have just as many problems and resources, if not more, than the Capital Wasteland.

One such settlement, The Park, or in the pre-war times, Thomas Point Park, is where you should place your attention. As the name 'Point' implies, it is the very southern strip of land coming off of the coastline almost directly east of D.C. To give you an image that you can rely on, we'll go through the details. The only overland entrance has been fortified with a barrier of cars, two high, two deep, and five or six long, right where the entrance to the park used to be. Fortified with various hunks of scrap metal made into battlements along the Barrier. Two men are on guard at the Barrier at all times.

The only way into Park is through a guarded man-made bridge of cars, sheet metal, and wood stretching across the water from a spit of land on the Eastern Shore.  
Before getting onto the bridge, you must pass a barricade, just scrap metal high enough to cover a man's chest, with a few chairs for the guards to sit in. Travelers passing through town pass the barricade. Merchants, hunters, and the occasional mercenary pass through. The barricade is the bridge's first line of defense. Unless you're a raider, bandit, obvious troublemaker, or someone unwelcome in the Park, getting past the barricade is almost guaranteed.

The bridge spans from East to West. Where the bridge reaches the shore on the town-side of the Barrier, a traveler would find themselves in between the Barrier and the Wall. The Wall is only a car tall, and a car thick, with an obvious gap in the middle. This is where travelers are really stopped. Here, the Checkpoint Official will make sure that the visitor isn't some kind of psychopath, and will either be admitted entrance or denied access. Once inside town, there you will find a varied store selection, decent food, The Subtle Band's headquarters, and most importantly, the thing that makes the Park the most important town in the Eastern Shores.

The Harbor. For a cheap price, and a quick talk with Vicky, one can purchase a ride across the bay to be dropped off an hour away from Rockshore, a ride North, where the drop off is right at the Former U.S Naval Academy, if you're on good enough terms with the men there. Still North, one could get passage to The Settlement, or South to Rose Cove, Ripps, or, if you were willing to pay for it, Finnstown.

...

I walked quickly, but quietly, towards the metro station. This was a one man job, so the others were free to do as they pleased. I looked around instinctively, taking in my surroundings. Flat, dusty plains, a few burnt out buildings, and then the Metro in front of me. I said nothing as I prepared myself for the upcoming attack. I reached for the silenced .10mm at my hip. Holding it firmly, I knew this would be over soon. I started to step into the dark, I turned around. Nobody. Now satisfied that I was alone, I stepped down, and into the shadowed halls of Central.

I stepped into the nearest secluded room, sat down, and as always, began to eat. It was a simple meal of dog, but it tasted good enough. When asked about this strange ritual, I just shook my head. Let them figure it out themselves. I finished the meal in silence, and sat for en extra two minutes for good measure. Now fully able to see, the job could start. Some two weeks back, a company of bandits had shown up in the East. They were more viscous than usual raiders, smarter too, and even more brutal. Sure, whenever they were met they lost men, as did the people who were their victims. But when word reached the Park of what had happened at the Mall, the council agreed that action had to be taken.

The Mall was a Shopping Mall, a settlement North and West of the Park. Nice people, and their fortifications were pretty heavy. The merchant reports said that the place looked just like what it was; a battlefield. Explosions had scorched various surfaces, casings were found everywhere, blood spatters, bent metal, you name it. These guys were packing some serious firepower.

So they sent Silas to take care of it. That was two days ago.

It had been easy to follow their tracks, and eventually, the bandits themselves, back to their hideout. Now they were preparing to move out again. I understood why I'd been sent. The Park didn't want anyone else to die, sure, but the real reason was so that they'd be safe. I didn't begrudge anyone that. This was a harsh world. I sat up, and cocked the pistol. _Time to get to work._ I walked at a normal pace down the tunnel, checking side rooms, only to find the occasional ghoul corpse. _Farther down._

I stopped. Voices. Down the ramp. Now I had to control himself to stop grinning. I looked around for what I needed. I picked up a piece of pipe. I flipped it around in my hand a few times, trying to judge it's weight. _It'll work._ I began to back into a side room, and then, when I was in the doorway, hurled it with all of my might at the other wall. The voices grew louder. More anxious. "Then go find out what it was you fucking bitch!" A voice bellowed. Laughter. A voice complaining. "...amned sonnova bitch! See! I'm here! Nothing to be afraid of, you goddamn pussy!" The other bandits roared with laughter.

I stepped into the corner, and pulled the hood of my duster up. _I'm going to need my knife._ It was in the sheath, hanging from my left shoulder. If need be, I could rip it out of it's holster and slash in one fluid movement. Saved my life more than once. So I stood and waited for the inevitable. "Look," The bandit called out. "I'll even check in here. You gonna freak out again Bitch?" Still laughing, the bandit's shadow entered the room before he did. Head still upright, I closed my eyes. The bandit entered the room.

Now that he was there, the bandit decided to actually look around. Footsteps to the other side of the room. To my left. Back to the door...then nothing. He had stopped. The bandit's name was Lynch. He was a reasonably strong guy, bet he was even better known for his eyesight. He frowned. That shadow was wrong. He walked over to the corner near the door. His frown deepened. "The fuck?" He whispered. He stared at my face, searching for a sign. I could feel his breath on my face, hear the now rapidly increasing breaths he took. He was looking into my closed eyes, scouring them for any hint of life.

My eyes shot open.

A split second after that, the bandit began to scream. The noise got out. This was all part of the plan. Things were life or death now. The next split second, a knife had slammed into Lynch's eyesocket. He died instantly.

_These guys are no different than run-of-the-mill raiders._

Confused and angry mutterings. I resheathed the knife, and reached for the pistol. I moved out of the room immediately, and into the next one. I took the room's furnishings in immediately, and, finding the best hiding spot, created it. I pushed a locker in the corner enough so that I could hide behind it, and still look in place. I was completely hidden behind the locker, but if a bandit did find me, I wouldn't have a way out. This room's entrance was it's only exit. I berated myself mentally. _Don't fuck this up._ I could hear the bandit's progress. Coming up the ramp. Entering the room. Stumbling on and discovering the body. Remembering his terrified, girl-like scream. Fear. Going deeper into the room. Going to the door. Coming into my room.

"Jesus Christ!" One of the bandits said, running a hand through his spiked hair.

"I fuckin' know. I know." Another said in agreement.

"You see his face? He was pissing himself!" A third bandit entered the room.

"You guys mind if I stay here?" He said gruffly. The two looked at each other, and shrugged. All the better, having another gun at the ready. "Sure." Three nodded his head, and went to sit on the desk. "We're in trouble." He said slowly. One laughed.

"Right. We'll find this guy, and we'll kill him. No big deal." Two wasn't so sure.

"I dunno. Lynch didn't have any idea that whatever was there that killed him was even there, until it was too late. No random Wastelander could pull that off."

Three nodded. "That's my point." He said, clutching at his rifle. "We've either pissed off or scared the shit out of someone, it doesn't matter. All that does is that they hired someone. And this someone is definitely a pro." The other two bandits shut up at this. "Shit." Two said. One remained skeptical. "Fuck that. He's just one guy. I'm not worried." I rolled my eyes. They were definitely off guard. Now was the time to strike. I began inching my way out of the locker.

And then Three saw me. "Holy shit!" He shouted. He reached for his gun, which, in his terror, fallen to the floor. One and Two were busy looking at him, unaware of me. Taking advantage of this, I placed a bullet in Three's Head. One and Two swore, and searched for me with a fervor known only in the face of death. One succeeded. I rushed up, and punched him in the gut. With one temporarily out of the way, I concentrated on Two. He was bringing a sawn off up to chest level. I reached for my hatchet, on my right hip, firing the whole time. I don't know which shot ended his life, but it was gone.

With Two out of the way, it was a simple matter to take out One. Now safe, I drew the hatchet. It's handle was two and a half hands long, with a simple axehead on the end. It had seen me through a lot, and it would see me through even more. I brought it up above my head, and brought it down on One's neck. The blood hit my face. It was on my clothes. But, now the room was empty. Nothing but corpses. I felt myself become consumed by pity. These men needed to survive, like we all did. All they knew was how to fight. They had chosen a means of survival not so different from mine, and for it, it had cost them their lives.

I shook the thought off. _Get over yourself Silas. _I snarled internally. _They're shit people. You're no better than they are, but at least you aren't an anarchist._

"What the fuck is going on in there!" Someone yelled. That pulled me out of my little stupor. I hurriedly dragged the bodies out of the hallway's line of sight. I thought quickly. My cover was about to be blown. Best to prepare for it. I quickly searched the corpses. "Goddamned loafing bastards!" The voice roared. It was closer this time.

I found what I was looking for. One of the bandits had a knack for explosives. I grabbed a handful of mines, and, still quietly, ran for the hallway. I dropped two there, one, right around the corner from the door, and the rest in the room. Expecting anything and everything, I grabbed Three's assault rifle, and jumped back behind the locker. I stood there, in the darkness, anticipating the arrival of the first explosion.

The first one echoed out through the whole metro. I flinched at the sound. More shouting. I put the rifle down. This would be very close quarters if I was found. I reached for my hatchet, and hefted it in my right hand. My mind wandered as I waited for more explosions. I'd been called monster, animal, and worse throughout my life. Then again, the people who said those things were either trying to kill me or were about to die.

_I wonder what someone who did know that wasn't trying to kill me would say about me._ I wondered. I thought it over for a few seconds. _Damnit_. I cursed. _I'd be too dead or too busy chasing the person down to get an answer._

...

Hey people. I've been gone, yeah. I've one announcement to make. The Survivors and Incensatus Vereor are on hold for an undetermined amount of time. The Capital Wasteland Idea Well has completely dried up, so I've moved to brighter shores. The Eastern Shore Chronicles are filled with new and promising ideas, and this is where I'm going to focus this fic.

I know that you guys and girls aren't stupid, so I'll come clean right now. This takes place seven years after the events of The Survivors, which has been put on hold. Kylar is employed as the Second in Silas' mercenary company. All I'm going to reveal is that Kylar's past is painful enough that he has no desire to live in or return to the Capital Wasteland.

However, I have been toying with the idea of including the Fallout 3 plot in Hunter, and perhaps getting a confession or admission out of Kylar as to the story of his past. So don't worry. All hope may not be gone.


	3. Ameteur

_Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout 3 or any of it's irradiated and fatal content._

**... Dust's POV ...**

Dust grimaced. "Fuck." She muttered. The sun had risen high into the sky. It was around noon, and she was running out of time. It had been a full day after Silas, the Hunter, the Night personified, had let her loose. A full day after her terrifying conversation with that _demon._ One day after she had held a terrifying, and strangely thrilling conversation with one of the most feared and respected men on the Eastern Shores.

She kept walking. There was nothing else that she could do. She had run out of energy long ago, and it took most of her willpower to keep walking. Eighteen hours back, she had ditched her pack. Yes, it had food, ammo, and other things she needed in it, but they would only slow her down. Besides, she had eaten and drank all that she needed beforehand, so there was no real drawback from leaving the pack behind asides from the lack of caps that she would have.

Not that it was going to be a problem. Dust was naturally a quiet person, so stealing some cash from the other scum at Ripps wouldn't be too difficult. Except for getting there. Dust groaned aloud, and nearly stopped there. She was still two days from Ripps, and there was no way that she would make it there before Silas caught her. She briefly considered making a last stand, possibly ambushing Silas, but she dismissed the thought immediately. He could be ten paces behind her right now, and she wouldn't even know it until she felt the knife enter her back. Silas wasn't called things like Shadow, and Night for nothing.

This was when Dust's survival instinct kicked in. _So what if he's a legend?_ She thought angrily. _So what if he can hold his own against some of the most dangerous creatures and people on the planet. So fucking what if he's a god damned vampire! _Dust knew that she'd rather kill herself than go down without a fight.

"If he wants me," Dust began, speaking quietly. "He'll have to fight me every step of the way."

**... Silas' POV ...**

Unbeknownst to both Silas and Dust, both of them were in a bad mood because of the other. Dust, because she was the hunted, and Silas, because he had other business to take care of, and she was going to be a distraction and drain of time. His head was whirling with activity as he made his way to the Park. There were a myriad number of problems that were going on in the Park, and not all of them as easy to see or resolve as the others.

Gill was looking to raise the average price of everything sold in the Park by fifteen caps. This was because Orville's hunting and scav parties had been less fruitful then they usually were. _This _was because of the bandits that Silas had just taken out looting and pillaging everything that they could get their damned hands on. Nobody seemed to understand this besides Silas and Orville, so Gill was pissed off because his proposal hadn't passed, and the council hadn't taken it into reconsideration, Parker was pissed because Gill was being an annoying prick, and Lane was indifferent because her men wouldn't suffer if the proposal was passed, or vetod.

And they were all pissed at Silas because he knew all of this and explained it to them in depth.

Gill was looking for a way to overthrow the Marshall as the Mayor, and replace him with the Business Rep, himself. He wanted to line his own pockets along with the other business men's as well. Parker was pissed because he knew that, and he knew that Gill was an untrustworthy sonnovabitch who would be his friend, and then throw him out on his ass as soon as he figured out how he could pull the coup off. Lane didn't give a damn at _all._ Orville was pissed off because Gill and Parker were pissed at him, angry because his men had failed the town, and furious because nobody but Silas understood the situation regarding the bandits and their ties to the hunter's scavenging and hunting.

This could be resolved by keeping things they were, with the Marshall as Mayor, with the deciding vote, and having the council vote on what would be passed or not. But nobody wanted things to stay the same, and although Silas hadn't said it aloud, this meant that the Park would crumble, and his men would have to move their headquarters elsewhere. Silas didn't know where that would be, but he didn't want to have to deal with it. The Park was a big town, with good men in it. They didn't deserve the problems that they had.

But that was life, and they had to accept it. The people would live, and they would press on as they always had. As Silas approached the Park's Barrier, he felt himself relax. With all of it's flaws, the Park was still his home. It might not have always been, but it was now. He walked towards the bridge, giving a nod to Sam, his sniper. She was on wall guard most of the time, day and night. She was looking at him now, undoubtedly. Silas glanced upwards, checking the time. Around one. Shane was probably on guard with her.

Silas grinned. _Poor bastard._ Sam was well known for her looks, and being alone up there with her was probably driving the poor man mad. Silas didn't envy him. Silas was halfway across the bridge when he was greeted by a guard. "Good to see you're still alive." One of them offered. Silas nodded.

"Officer Williams, right?" The guard nodded.

"Yes sir." Silas clapped him on the shoulder as he walked by.

"See you another time Harrison." It was a very fortunate thing, Silas reflected, that the guards had at least some sense of discipline. That and Parker would have anyone who was slacking tied to the a brahmin's backside for dereliction of duty.

The checkpoint didn't bother checking who Silas was. They knew him, and waved him through. As a respected mercenary captain, and council member, nobody had any qualms with him keeping his weapons on him in public. Usually, anything larger than a pistol or knife was to be confiscated, and returned upon leaving the Park. Or if you had a home, you could store said weapons there. Nobody was very comfortable with heavily armed strangers strolling through the middle of the town.

Silas' first stop was at the Hole. It was short for Hole in the Wall, and was the only official bar in town. It's owner, Willy, was a fairly underhanded person. He'd sell his mother for...well anything, really. It didn't matter. He was a businessmen, and like most barkeeps, they were only interested in money, and their own power. Silas tried his best to keep him in line, but he knew that the man had his hands in things that he didn't have any control of.

Silas walked into the two story bar. Unlike most bars, it was only a bar, and not an inn, where one can rent a room for the night. James flashed Silas a grin as he cleaned off a glass. He wasn't a bad kid, and just wanted to make a living. Silas wouldn't condemn him for that. He walked up to James, and put down a small pouch of caps. "Scotch. Whole bottle." James almost asked Silas why he wasn't ordering the usual whiskey, but thought better of it.

"Seventy-five caps." James said, eyeing the pouch.

"I know." Silas said, keeping his voice low. It didn't matter what Silas' reputation was, or what people thought of him. He tried not to draw attention to himself, and was damned good at it. Silas was of an average height, five ten, maybe five nine. Average weight. Far above average strength, agility, and perception. Not the best at persuading people or the like. Black, short, scraggly hair. Green eyes. Clean shaven. Not the most attention drawing person.

"James." Silas said, again in the low voice. "Any of my men here?" James knew what he meant. The men and woman who worked for Silas occasionally went to the Hole for drinks.

"Upstairs. Jacob and Grimm for sure, maybe Kylar." Silas nodded his thanks, and placed another few caps on the counter before heading for the stairs. The various nameless mercenaries, hired as guards, looked at Silas with mixed emotions. Some with fear, or anxiety, because if he went hostile, they might not be able to stop him. Some with contempt, because he was the head of his own band, or he'd turned them away when they asked to join. He didn't care.

Silas reached the top of the stairs, and headed for the men of his band. Jacob and Grimm were indeed there, thoroughly engaged in some argument of some kind. Silas didn't see Kylar for a split-second, and then found him. He was in the corner seat, in the shadow. His arms were folded across his torso as he silently listened to the two. As Silas approached, Grimm and Jacob still hadn't spotted him. Kylar had.

"Afternoon." He muttered, not bothering to look up. Silas didn't take this as a sign of disrespect, or insubordination. He and Kylar were equals, and they both knew it. In some this would spark a rivalry for the the ages, but between Silas and Kylar, it was the start of brotherhood. If one didn't have previous knowledge of Silas and Kylar, they could easily be mistaken for siblings.

Jacob and Grimm looked up suddenly from each other, and nodded their hellos to Silas. "Hey chief." Jacob smiled broadly, and beckoned him over to the table.

"How are you smooth-skin?" Grimm asked in his rasping voice. Silas did walk over and sit down.

"Fine. Thing could be better." He meant the words honestly. He wanted to fix the problems in the Park, but _needed_ to keep his word. Breaking one's word was taboo to Silas, and if he left a single bandit alive, or uncaptured, then it would be broken. "Anything happen while I was gone?" It had been two days ago that Silas had gotten the contract, but he'd recieved it from a messenger while in Rockshore, to the North. He'd been working a contract for almost two weeks when he'd finally finished.

Grimm shook his head. He was intelligence. Anything that happened, almost anywhere, Grimm would know. He had eyes and ears everywhere. "Nothing too important. I'm assuming you took out the bandits, and you haven't been asked for just yet. Jacob escorted a caravan to Ripps last week, and I hunted down a theif." He shrugged. "Like I said. Nothing important."

Silas nodded. "Thanks." He pulled the bottle of scotch out of his duster, and placed it on the table. "Kylar?" He poured the drinks.

"Sure." Kylar straightened himself, and cleared his throat. The room turned quiet. Kylar made toasts, and they were always stirring, if in a chilling way. Kylar began to speak, and the rest of the bar fell into silence. He spoke without pause, and even though the speech lasted around fifteen seconds, it seemed like hours. "Licet, quot vis, vivendo vincere secla. Mors æterna tamen, nihilominus illa manebit." With that, he raised his glass. "To the dead." Everyone who had anything to drink drained it. It was an unspoken ritual. You don't talk about it, you don't ask about it, you don't think about it. It just happens.

At least, that applied to the citizens. Grimm, Jacob, Sam, and even though Silas didn't ask, they were all curious about what the fuck the speech meant. "Seriously." Jacob began. "You've said the speech hundreds of times, and all that I can understand is that it's gibberish, and that I only get that it honors the dead." Kylar shrugged, and Jacob went on. "Come on. At least tell me what language it is." This was a new one. Kylar thought for a moment, and relented.

"Latin."

Silas grinned, and Jacob and Grimm both groaned. "Because that's so helpful." Grimm muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thank you so much." Jacob nodded in agreement.

"I'm so lost."

Kylar cracked a grin, and shook his head. "You guys are useless. I'd rather have a crippled bloatfly to be my partner than you two." Jacob and Grimm both rolled their eyes.

"Right." Grimm said slowly.

"I dunno Grimm. Bloatflies can get pretty nasty when cornered." Jacob said mockingly. Kylar glanced at him, and they exchanged a short laugh.

Grimm sighed deeply. "I'm going to bed." He said. "I know where this is going." He got up, and headed for the stairs. He opened the door, and left.

Kylar glanced at Silas. "Huh." He said. "Now what I expected."

Grimm's head popped back through the door. "Fuckups." The door closed again.

"Fuck!" The two swore in unison. Silas just laughed. The three had these fights all the time. In this kind of world, laughter actually _was _the best medicine. Mentally. He leaned back in his chair, and drifted in and out of conversation with the two men. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. Why not relax while he could?

...

Wow. Been a while. Someone, can't remember who, posted recently that I used to have a torrent of updates and chapters, and now I update rarely, if at all. That got me sad. So I sat down, and in forty minutes printed out this motherfucker. I **hope **that I'll have the next chapter out sooner this time.  
Was listening to Agent Tex the whole time while writing this. Found my muse. Peace.


	4. Information Highway

Hey! You! Person reading this! Pay attention, idiot!

Alright, it's been maybe a week or so since I've updated. But that's not important. What **is **important is the fact that I rewrote the last two chapters. I wasn't happy with Silas, so I changed him. Not so much the blood-thirsty-warmongering-fuckedup-psychopath anymore...or did you guys not see him as that? Fuck it. He's different now. Also, I've fixed up some typos, and went deeper with Dust as a character.

Ch.3 on it's way.


	5. Holes

_Disclaimer: I do not own Fallout 3 or any of it's irradiated and fatal content._

**... Silas' POV ...**

Unbeknownst to both Silas and Dust, both of them were in a bad mood because of the other. Dust, because she was the hunted, and Silas, because he had other business to take care of, and she was going to be a distraction and drain of time. His head was whirling with activity as he made his way to the Park. There were a myriad number of problems that were going on in the Park, and not all of them as easy to see or resolve as the others.

Gill was looking to raise the average price of everything sold in the Park by fifteen caps. This was because Orville's hunting and scav parties had been less fruitful then they usually were. _This _was because of the bandits that Silas had just taken out looting and pillaging everything that they could get their damned hands on. Nobody seemed to understand this besides Silas and Orville, so Gill was pissed off because his proposal hadn't passed, and the council hadn't taken it into reconsideration, Parker was pissed because Gill was being an annoying prick, and Lane was indifferent because her men wouldn't suffer if the proposal was passed, or vetod.

And they were all pissed at Silas because he knew all of this and explained it to them in depth.

Gill was looking for a way to overthrow the Marshall as the Mayor, and replace him with the Business Rep, himself. He wanted to line his own pockets along with the other business men's as well. Parker was pissed because he knew that, and he knew that Gill was an untrustworthy sonnovabitch who would be his friend, and then throw him out on his ass as soon as he figured out how he could pull the coup off. Lane didn't give a damn at _all._ Orville was pissed off because Gill and Parker were pissed at him, angry because his men had failed the town, and furious because nobody but Silas understood the situation regarding the bandits and their ties to the hunter's scavenging and hunting.

This could be resolved by keeping things they were, with the Marshall as Mayor, with the deciding vote, and having the council vote on what would be passed or not. But nobody wanted things to stay the same, and although Silas hadn't said it aloud, this meant that the Park would crumble, and his men would have to move their headquarters elsewhere. Silas didn't know where that would be, but he didn't want to have to deal with it. The Park was a big town, with good men in it. They didn't deserve the problems that they had.

But that was life, and they had to accept it. The people would live, and they would press on as they always had. As Silas approached the Park's Barrier, he felt himself relax. With all of it's flaws, the Park was still his home. It might not have always been, but it was now. He walked towards the bridge, giving a nod to Sam, his sniper. She was on wall guard most of the time, day and night. She was looking at him now, undoubtedly. Silas glanced upwards, checking the time. Around one. Shane was probably on guard with her.

Silas grinned. _Poor bastard._ Sam was well known for her looks, and being alone up there with her was probably driving the poor man mad. Silas didn't envy him. Silas was halfway across the bridge when he was greeted by a guard. "Good to see you're still alive." One of them offered. Silas nodded.

"Officer Williams, right?" The guard nodded.

"Yes sir." Silas clapped him on the shoulder as he walked by.

"See you another time Harrison." It was a very fortunate thing, Silas reflected, that the guards had at least some sense of discipline. That and Parker would have anyone who was slacking tied to the a brahmin's backside for dereliction of duty.

The checkpoint didn't bother checking who Silas was. They knew him, and waved him through. As a respected mercenary captain, and council member, nobody had any qualms with him keeping his weapons on him in public. Usually, anything larger than a pistol or knife was to be confiscated, and returned upon leaving the Park. Or if you had a home, you could store said weapons there. Nobody was very comfortable with heavily armed strangers strolling through the middle of the town.

Silas' first stop was at the Hole. It was short for Hole in the Wall, and was the only official bar in town. It's owner, Willy, was a fairly underhanded person. He'd sell his mother for...well anything, really. It didn't matter. He was a businessmen, and like most barkeeps, they were only interested in money, and their own power. Silas tried his best to keep him in line, but he knew that the man had his hands in things that he didn't have any control of.

Silas walked into the two story bar. Unlike most bars, it was only a bar, and not an inn, where one can rent a room for the night. James flashed Silas a grin as he cleaned off a glass. He wasn't a bad kid, and just wanted to make a living. Silas wouldn't condemn him for that. He walked up to James, and put down a small pouch of caps. "Scotch. Whole bottle." James almost asked Silas why he wasn't ordering the usual whiskey, but thought better of it.

"Seventy-five caps." James said, eyeing the pouch.

"I know." Silas said, keeping his voice low. It didn't matter what Silas' reputation was, or what people thought of him. He tried not to draw attention to himself, and was damned good at it. Silas was of an average height, five ten, maybe five nine. Average weight. Far above average strength, agility, and perception. Not the best at persuading people or the like. Black, short, scraggly hair. Green eyes. Clean shaven. A fairly nondescript person.

"James." Silas said, again in the low voice. "Any of my men here?" James knew what he meant. The men and woman who worked for Silas occasionally went to the Hole for drinks.

"Upstairs. Jacob and Grimm for sure, maybe Kylar." Silas nodded his thanks, and placed another few caps on the counter before heading for the stairs. The various nameless mercenaries, hired as guards, looked at Silas with mixed emotions. Some with fear, or anxiety, because if he went hostile, they might not be able to stop him. Some with contempt, because he was the head of his own band, or he'd turned them away when they asked to join. He didn't care.

Silas reached the top of the stairs, and headed for the men of his band. Jacob and Grimm were indeed there, thoroughly engaged in some argument of some kind. Silas didn't see Kylar for a split-second, and then found him. He was in the corner seat, in the shadow. His arms were folded across his torso as he silently listened to the two. As Silas approached, Grimm and Jacob still hadn't spotted him. Kylar had.

"Afternoon." He muttered, not bothering to look up. Silas didn't take this as a sign of disrespect, or insubordination. He and Kylar were equals, and they both knew it. In some this would spark a rivalry for the the ages, but between Silas and Kylar, it was the start of brotherhood. If one didn't have previous knowledge of Silas and Kylar, they could easily be mistaken for siblings.

Jacob and Grimm looked up suddenly from each other, and nodded their hellos to Silas. "Hey chief." Jacob said flatly, beckoning him over to the table.

"How are you smooth-skin?" Grimm asked in his rasping voice. Silas did walk over and sit down.

"Fine. Thing could be better." He meant the words honestly. He wanted to fix the problems in the Park, but _needed_ to keep his word. Breaking one's word was taboo to Silas, and if he left a single bandit alive, or uncaptured, then it would be broken. "Anything happen while I was gone?" It had been two days ago that Silas had gotten the contract, but he'd recieved it from a messenger while in Rockshore, to the North. He'd been working a contract for almost two weeks when he'd finally finished.

Grimm shook his head. He was intelligence. Anything that happened, almost anywhere, Grimm would know. He had eyes and ears everywhere. "Nothing too important. I'm assuming you took out the bandits, and you haven't been asked for just yet. I escorted a caravan to Ripps last week, and Jacob hunted down a theif." He shrugged. "Like I said. Nothing important."

Silas nodded. "Thanks." He pulled the bottle of scotch out of his duster, and placed it on the table. "Kylar?" He poured the drinks.

"Sure." Kylar straightened himself, and cleared his throat. The other mercs stopped talking, and listened. "Vita est ferrues, tunv vos intereo." Kylar raised his glass, and drained it. The other mercenaries followed suit. Grimm, Jacob, Sam, and even though Silas didn't ask, were all curious about what the fuck the speech meant.

"Seriously." Grimm began. "You've said the speech hundreds of times, and all that I can understand is that it's gibberish." Kylar shrugged, and Jacob went on. "Come on. At least tell me what language it is." Kylar thought for a moment, and relented.

"Latin."

Silas grinned, and Grimm groaned. "Because that's so helpful." Grimm muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Thank you so much." Jacob nodded in agreement.

Kylar cracked a grin, and shook his head. "It's disappointing how I'm the only person in almost fifty miles who actually has an education." Jacob and Grimm both rolled their eyes.

"Right." Grimm said slowly.

"Because knowing how to spell low-kway-shus is really important when a deathclaw is trying to turn you into minced merc." Silas said mockingly. Kylar glanced at him, and they exchanged a short laugh.

"It's spelled loquacious, and I see your point." Kylar reached over, and stole Silas' drink. "But It's still funny."

Silas laughed. "Bastard." The men talked for the next hour or so until Sam walked in. Grimm tipped his infamous bowler, which, as rumor had it, had been stained with the blood of a ghost, at Sam. "Hey." Sam walked over, and sat down next to him.

"Evening boys." She looked over at Silas. "Hello to you too." She said happily, snatching his replacement drink from his lips, and finishing it.

This was common sport for them. If Silas wasn't careful, he'd get his drinks stolen, something he always protested. "Wh-. But. Why would...aah damn." He finished in a sigh, and poured himself another glass. "The word hate is used so commonly by everyone." He said casually. "It's lost it's meaning. Raiders, kids, me, you, everyone says 'hate'. Hate implies seriously, ridiculously high levels of dislike, to the point of murder." He paused, and let the words sink in. "So, I cannot say that I hate you guys. Now I need to find a new damn word." He finished pouring the glass, and downed half of it. "Assholes."

Everyone laughed. Sam, her casual, soft tone. Grimm, in his rough rasps. Jacob, in silent chuckles, and Kylar, with his roaring guffaws. Silas smiled. They were his family. He touched the glass to his lips, and began to drink. _Who the hell else is there?_

...

Wow. Been a while. Someone, can't remember who, posted recently that I used to have a torrent of updates and chapters, and now I update rarely, if at all. That got me sad. So I sat down, and in forty minutes printed out this motherfucker. I **hope **that I'll have the next chapter out sooner this time.  
Was listening to Agent Tex the whole time while writing this. Found my muse. Peace. 2nd draft. Review please!


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